A Christmas Reservation (The Royale Series)

by Devon Michaels

  “The kids will definitely want to see you,” urges Richard.

  “Yeah, I know. I miss those little buggers.”

  “Do you think you’ll bring any one?” he asks.

  I frown. “You don’t have to dance around the subject, dad.”

  “You’re too smart for your own good,” he chuckles, closing the menu in his hands and placing it to the side. “I’m just thinking about your future, is all.”

  “You don’t need to worry,” I stress.

  “Are you seeing someone?”

  I clench my jaw. “Why do we always have to talk about my love life when you come and visit? Can’t we just hang out like we used to?”

  “My darling, you’re not getting any younger.”

  “Wow,” I scoff, “thanks, dad.”

  “I personally would love more grandchildren.”

  “Then tell Amy and Alexa to get busy.” I fold my arms across my chest. My sisters already had two kids each. I didn’t see the need for any more children running around.

  Richard smiles softly at me. “I just want you to be happy, my darling. I’m not going to be around for much longer. I want to make sure there’s somebody in your life who can take care of you.”

  I sit up straight. “Don’t say that, dad.”

  “It’s the truth,” he mutters with a shrug. “I’m not getting any younger, either. I just don’t like the idea of you being alone. Especially around this time of year. Lots of depression around Christmas.”

  I roll my eyes. This visit when from a ten to a zero right quick. “I get through Valentine’s well enough.”

  “I’m being serious, Kate.”

  “So am I.”

  The little bell that’s nailed to the top of the door frame jingles, alerting the restaurant staff that a new guest has arrived. I glance at the door, momentarily distracted by the sound. But when I see who’s standing there, I feel the color drain from my face.

  “What’s he doing here?” I mumble to myself. Richard turns in his seat to see who I’m referring to.

  “Kate?” calls Peter. He waves awkwardly before walking over. I instinctively standup, not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do in this situation.

  “Who might this be?” inquires Richard.

  I hook my arm around Peter’s and hold him close. “This is my… boyfriend,” I said through gritted teeth and a forced smile.

  “Er,” stammers Peter. “What?”

  I kick him in the shin, praying that he gets my drift. “Dad, this is Peter.”

  Richard stands, squaring his shoulders as he glares down at Peter. He sticks a hand out to shake, which Peter is too polite to decline. Richard shakes hands with him, grip a little firmer than necessary judging by the hand print he leaves.

  “N-nice to meet you, sir,” Peter manages.

  “Why hasn’t Kate mentioned you before?” Richard interrogates.

  Peter struggles to come up with an answer, so I pipe up quickly. “We just started dating,” I lie easily.

  “Y-yeah,” adds Peter. He’s trying to be helpful. “It’s nothing serious.”

  “Nothing serious?” snaps Richard. “What do you mean you’re not serious about my daughter?”

  “Er, I mean–”

  “We’re taking things slow,” I correct. “We agreed we wouldn’t really introduce each other to our families until we felt comfortable. You know how I am, dad. I don’t like talking about my private life.”

  Richard’s shoulders relax a little, partially convinced. He points his nose up at Peter, though, rubbed the wrong way.

  “Would you like to join us?” Richard offers. There’s a challenge in his voice.

  “I’m actually just–”

  “Come and join us, sweetie,” I almost nearly growl. Peter lets out a little a nervous laugh, but nods. We sit back down in the booth, Peter at my side fidgeting nervously with his hands.

  “Sorry to intrude on your father-daughter lunch,” he says, trying to break the tension.

  “What do you do for a living, Peter?” inquires my father, eyes cold.

  “I’m a doctor.”

  Richard nods in minor approval. “That’s impressive.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Although, you must be a very busy young man.”

  “I am, sir.”

  I stifle a laugh. Peter sounds like a boy scout who’s being scolded by their camp leader. Peter reaches for my hand under the table and pinches me. I do my best to straighten out my face.

  “Do you have enough time to spend together?” continues Richard.

  “I like to think so,” I chime in. “I’m busy with the Royale, anyways, so it sort of works.”

  “Sort of?” he scrutinizes. He glares at Peter, eyes unwavering. I haven’t seen him this protective of me since the time Robbie Adams picked me up for our high school prom.

  “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

  I slap my forehead. “Oh, dear God.”

  “My intentions are to make her happy,” answers Peter without missing a beat. “She’s the center of my world, sir. I want you to know that I have nothing but respect for her.”

  I glance at him, confused. His answer came out way too smoothly. Peter takes my hand and squeezes it, the warmth of his palm spreading against my skin. It’s a comforting sensation, a steady rock against a violent stream –a stream of unwanted inquiries.

  Richard bursts into laughter. It’s so loud that it startles me a little, jolting me in my seat.

  “Looks like you’ve found a good one,” he comments.

  I giggle nervously, trying to brush past the awkwardness. But like a miracle from the heavens above, Peter’s pager goes off. He reaches for the little device, checking the number.

  “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, shuffling out of the booth. “That’s the hospital. I have to get going.”

  “O-okay,” I stammer. “Sorry you didn’t get to eat.”

  “It’s cool. I was actually just picking something up for David.” Peter returns his attention to Richard and gives him a curt nod. “It was nice meeting you, sir.”

  “You, too,” says Richard stiffly.

  Before Peter leaves, he leans over and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper as I watch him leave the way he came. He stops by the counter briefly to speak with the waitress, who almost immediately hands him a to-go bag.

  Once the front door to the restaurant closes shut, I frown. “Did you have to be so hard on him?” I demand.

  Richard just chuckles as he waves down the waitress to let her know we’re ready to order. “I wouldn’t be much of a father if I wasn’t hard on him. I’m just looking out for my girl.”

  I roll my eyes. Peter’s words are still echoing in my head. Surely it was all just part of the act –to really sell it. In my opinion, it was a bit overkill. But Peter had been so certain, so sure, that it left butterflies in my stomach. Peter really should have gone into acting.

  She’s the center of my world.

  “He seems nice,” murmurs Richard.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “He is.”

  I’m not necessarily lying. Peter really is nice. He’s funny, he’s smart, he’s unbelievably charming –and that’s not even mentioning how good he is in bed. I mind is swirling, overwhelmed by the whole interaction. This is a really weird turn of a events. I rub my hands together, remembering how warm Peter’s hands were despite the frigidness outside. When he sat beside me, I felt surprisingly calm. It felt natural to have him so close.

  “Should I set an extra place setting for dinner?” asks Richard, eyebrow raised.

  “Yeah,” I say quickly. If it means it will shut my family up at Christmas dinners, why not? “I think you should.”

  A giddy little excitement was bubbling in my chest. I entertain the idea of maybe pursuing something more with Peter. But I shake my head. That’s not what Peter wants. We can never be anything more than what we
are. After all, we had agreed.

  You can’t fall in love with me.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Peter

  Things get so busy at work that I don’t have a chance to check my cellphone until it’s finally the end of my shift. I make my way over the fellow lounge and open my locker, retrieving my cellphone that’s sitting neatly on the top shelf. There are several messages waiting, and when I see that they’re from Kate, my heart picks up in pace.

  [Kate] I’m so sorry about that.

  [Kate] My dad’s just really protective of me.

  [Kate] I’m sorry I sprung the whole boyfriend thing on you.

  [Kate] But thanks for playing along.

  [Kate] I’d totally get it if you wanted to stop this.

  [Kate] This is super awkward. Please don’t hate me.

  I frown at her messages. They went from adorable to concerning. I didn’t hate Kate. I thought it was endearing how flustered she got. I adored the way her face turned bright red. Granted, her father really was intimidating, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

  I text her back immediately.

  [Peter] Hey, is it cool if I call you?

  I check the time. It’s almost two in the morning. I don’t expect Kate to respond back right away. Maybe she won’t respond at all. A sense of dread washes over me. I would hate it if she didn’t message me back. I want so badly to hear her voice. What if she never wants to talk to me again? What if she’s too embarrassed? What if what I said freaked her out, and now I’ll never have the chance to–

  Ding.

  My heart stops. I check my phone. Could it be her?

  [David] Dude, can you cover my shift tomorrow? I’d owe you one.

  I sigh, rubbing my hand over my mouth. My hands are cracked from all of the washing and disinfecting that I do during the course of a shift. I text him back.

  [Peter] No.

  [David] But why?

  [Peter] Too busy.

  [David] With your lady friend?

  [Peter] And it’s super last minute.

  [David} Pleeeeeeeeeeease?

  I throw on my jacket and grab my backpack from my locker before calling it a night. I leave through the hospital’s staff entrance and trudge through the fresh layer of snow to get to the parking lot. A terrible wind rushes past, forcing a chill down my spine. I shudder against the cold as I slip into my car. I start the ignition, praying that the car heats up fast.

  My phone goes off again and I damn well near have a heart attack. I fumble to draw my phone out of my pocket, hands shaking. I check the caller ID and feel my stomach practically leap into my throat from excitement. I hurriedly answer, my tone betraying just how delighted I am.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi,” Kate greets quietly. I can barely hear her over the whirring ventilation system. I reach to my right and flick the fans off.

  “Hey,” I chuckle stupidly. Really? Apparently, that’s all I can think to say right now.

  I’m such a moron.

  “So,” she starts, clicking her tongue. “I have kind of a favor to ask.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Well…” Her voice trails off in thought. She seems hesitant, unsure. “Look, I know we said that… This is stupid. I’m sorry I called. Never mind.”

  “Wait!” I exclaim, calling after her. “It’s okay. Just tell me.”

  There’s a beat of a silence. I wonder for a split second if she’s already hung up on me, but then Kate lets out a shaky breath.

  “Would you mind maybe coming with me to… My family has this Christmas dinner and all my sisters are going to be there with their kids, and I don’t really feel like going by myself. They’re just going to ask me a bunch of questions about why I’m still single, and I don’t really feel like going through that again.”

  “What are you trying to ask me?” I chuckle.

  “Would you pretend to be my boyfriend for a day? I just don’t want to deal with pressure. You don’t have to. I don’t want things to be weird. I can’t think of anyone else. It’s tomorrow.”

  I can’t help but smile. She’s so adorable and shy. I just want to wrap my arms around her and laugh –not at her, but with her.

  “Okay,” I agree, “but only if you do something for me.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m also dealing with some family problems, too. My sister’s in town and she wants to set me up with one of her friends, but I’m really not interested. Would you pretend to be my girlfriend while she’s in town?”

  “I guess that’s fair,” she mumbles. “Quid pro quo.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Yeah, alright. Let’s do this. God, I hate the holidays.”

  “Ah, families. Where would we be without them?”

  Kate giggles softly. It’s like music to my ears. “What time’s your dinner with your sister?” she asks me quietly.

  “I’ll text you the details.”

  “Okay.”

  On the other side of the phone, I think I hear a door closing. My curiosity piqued, I ask, “Where are you?”

  “At the restaurant. Just finished up some accounting paperwork.”

  I glance at my watch. It’s incredibly late. The thought of Kate being all by herself at work spark a tiny flicker of anger in the back of my mind. I don’t like the idea of her being alone.

  “I’m on my way home,” she continues.

  “How far away do you live?”

  “About a twenty-minute walk. It’s no big deal.”

  This statement doesn’t sit well with me. It’s dark, it’s cold, and it’s way too late for a beautiful woman to be walking alone in the streets. Does she do this often? Why doesn’t anyone at her work offer to take her home? It’s not safe. I frown at the thought, my nostrils flaring.

  “Do you want me to pick you up?” I ask. “The weather’s getting pretty bad.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s a short walk to–”

  “Kate,” I stress, “seriously. I don’t mind.”

  Kate sighs. “Fine.”

  “Wait inside. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Thanks, Peter. You’re the best.”

  “I know.”

  As much as I want to speed to the restaurant to see Kate, I have to take things slow. The snow starts to come down hard, thick and wet snowflakes clinging to everything it touches. The roads are basically slush, my windshield wipers are working overtime, and the glare from oncoming traffic makes it impossible to see. When I finally pull up to the back of the restaurant, I find Kate sitting on the curb, her arms folded across her chest for warmth. She strides over to the car and slips into the passenger seat.

  “I told you to wait inside.”

  “I wasn’t waiting long,” she assures me.

  I can tell she’s lying. She can’t stop shivering. Kate clutches her hands to her chest, knitting her fingers together. I turn up the heat and point the vents at her before taking one of her hands in mine. Her skin is ice-cold to the touch, the tips of her fingers pale and a little blue.

  “What are you doing?” she asks.

  “What does it look like?”

  “Peter, I really am fine.”

  But she doesn’t make any effort to let go. Her hands are surprisingly small, covered entirely in my own. I feel warm and comfortable. Having her this close to me feels right. It feels good. I find myself leaning in, noticing the way snowflakes melt in her hair. The tip of her nose and her cheeks are pink from windchill. My eyes fall upon her supple lips. They look welcoming and in need of warmth –warmth that I’m more than willing to provide.

  “Peter?” she whispers. My breathing feels shallow and my chest feels tight. I so badly want to kiss her right now.

  “Yes?”

  “Shouldn’t we get going?”

  I bite my lip and lean back into my seat. I clear my throat, placing my hands on the steering wheel. “Right,” I cough. “Sorry. What’s the address?”

  “I’ll guide you,” she says.
/>
  I step on the gas pedal and carefully peel away from the curb. Apart from the occasional direction that Kate gives me, we remain silent. I focus on the wet sounds beneath the car tires. I try to drown out the nagging feeling in my gut. This is all happening so fast. I didn’t expect to fall for her at all. But here I am, struggling against the urge to kiss her and call her mine.

  We finally pull up to a small apartment complex on the corner of 5th and Howe. A tense air rests on our shoulders, neither one of us brave enough to make the first move.

  “This is me,” she indicates after a moment. Her words are so soft that I can barely hear her over the vents and rumble of the engine.

  “I’ll, er…” I stammer. I don’t know what to say. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

  She smiles at me. It’s heartbreakingly sweet and kind. “Yeah,” she nods. “Thanks for the ride.”

  She opens the car door and slips out. I watch through the window as she pulls open the glass doors of the apartment complex and steps into the main foyer. She inserts her keys and turns them, opening the second set of doors. Before she’s out of sight, she turns and gives me a small little wave goodbye. I can’t shake the sinking feeling in my stomach. Maybe I’m coming down with something.

  Maybe it’s something even worse.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Kate

  I wait out on the curb, keeping an eye out for Peter’s car. Christmas is technically still a week out, but today is the only day both of my sisters can make it up to see our father. I have a box of homemade cupcakes in my arms –my sad excuse of a contribution to our little get-together. I’m dressed in a pair of dark skinny jeans, knee-high black winter boots, a baggy blue sweater I had lying around, covered by my winter jacket. I’m wearing gloves this time around, having fished them out of storage the night before. I’ve got a bulky scarf wrapped around my neck and partially covering the lower-half of my face against the cold morning air.